no prize for second best
by escapedreality
Summary: They had come so close for victory to slip away before their eyes.
1. Apologies

**Finished Mockingjay yesterday (gah! but don't worry, no spoilers!) and had to write Hunger Games again. This is going to be about those who came in second, the final kills of the victors. Any of the 74 games.**

i. apologies

She had always been a contender, and throughout the Games she had managed to stay away from the one person she knew may match her.

But when there are only two left, she can't exactly avoid her anymore.

The girl is eighteen (like her) and strong (like her) and even looks a bit like her. Yes, her opposite was similar in many ways.

Except for the crucial ones.

Because she's careful and thought out and wields her axe with care and precision.

(Because she was a district 7 girl and the axe was her element)

The other girl is just raw _power. _A tornado of energy topped by a long scythe.

(the kind used to cut grain, because she was from 11 and that was her element)

And maybe she should have known how this would end, because close range combat had grown to be her thing, but long range was 11's and long range was usually able to _strike first._

It struck fast and painfully, a long cut to the base of the neck, a slice to her thigh. A broken leg and a stab with a twist to the gut.

The pain was blinding; the girl, uncaring. Satisfied with watching her opponent bleed slowly to death.

And so she lay there, broken and bleeding; her axe was gone, just out of reach. And the whole nation of Panem was watching the life flow from her.

Through the haze of pain she could only think one thought.

She raised her arm slowly, just a tad to see the sun glint off the simple gold ring one more time. Then it dropped to the ground in its last movement.

And her mouth was forming its last words, the last tears streaming from her eyes, mixing with blood and dirt.

"I'm sorry Aiden, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry."

Whispers on the wind, across the country to the dense forests of her home,

_"I'm sorry."_

Apologies, not 'I do' for her wedding day.

**Thoughts?**


	2. By a thread

**Two days back to school and I am swamped with work. Ridiculous.**

ii. by a thread

He was making a valiant attempt, trying to summon any energy he had remaining in his body.

(Though, that wasn't much.)

He'd never had much upper body strength anyway, and he supposed it was a miracle he wasn't dead yet. His right hand started to slip of the sheer cliff face and he desperately readjusted it. He continued to try and find a small ledge to place his feet on to no avail.

He couldn't see his opponent, nor hear her and it was very disconcerting. He would like to know where the enemy was.

Speak of the devil.

She appeared above him, eyes slightly crazed. Her hair was a dirty, tangled mess and her face and body sunken a bit due to lack of food. She peered at him like a curious child. Slowly, with light graceful steps she stalked toward the ledge; and him.

Her knife appeared in her left hand and she squat down. She showed no fear of falling, or of him pulling her over. Maybe she knew he couldn't.

She stomped on his left hand hard, keeping her foot firmly on it and preventing him from pulling it away. Then she begun to pry his right hand away from the rock, one finger at a time.

"It's a shame, really."

He was hit forcefully by a memory that bubbled to the surface.

_He was sitting at home, reading a book on textiles for school. His sister came in crying. _

_"Mama! Mama my dress!" she wailed, pointing to where someone had spilled ink on it._

_"Honey it's okay, we can fix it. We'll just remove the white with the ink, okay?" His sister nodded with a sniffle._

_His mother took out her scissors and slowly began to snip the tread around the soiled part of the dress. One stitch at a time._

_When she had finished she looked at the now plain dress._

_"It's a shame, really."_

He was the ruined dress, being removed stitch by stitch. He attempted to grasp the ledge with his right hand but it only angered her and she sliced across his fingers quickly with her knife, leaving deep incisions. He howled in pain and clutch his bleeding hand to his chest. His only link to the world of the living was his crushed left hand, residing under her boot.

It was almost in slow motion that he watched her remove it. He only made out two words as he fell, screaming.

"A shame."

**Thoughts?**


	3. Watching, waiting

**A different point of view. **

iii. watching, waiting

It seemed unprecidented, impossible. What were the odds?

Three people, two of District Four, one of District One.

And only one winner allowed.

We watched with bated breath, as the tributes stood in a three way standoff. Not even the tributes from Four were backing each other up.

(maybe it's because they knew the reality, that they might have to fight one another)

Murmers from crowd, soft chants.

Marian. Teth.

(and no one rooting on District One)

And I found myself chanting this strange sort of mixture of names as the standoff broke off.

Teth made a dash at the boy from One. He held a splintered sword aloft as he ran.

District One blocked the onslaught, with relative ease as the girl next to me bit her lip so tightly it bled.

Bled like Teth, a sick red river mixing with dirt and sweat.

Marian had made no movement, she stood transfixed watching the two younger boys before her face off.

The boy from One had the advantage. Teth tripped. A mace loomed above him, its owner grimacing. It started to arch-

and clattered harmless to the ground. Its owner followed suit, laying there like a stuck pig with Marian's spear still protruding from him.

Teth got wobbly to his knees, he was in no condition to fight.

"Mar, here, come on. Go home okay? I won't make it far anyway." The splintered sword lay in his outstretched palm. "Take it." he insisted.

Her hand shook uncontrollably and she picked up the damned weapon. She held it as if weighing it. In her eyes the whole crowd could see her emotions.

Fear. Pity. Saddness.

But not for him.

Swiftly, swift as anyone had seen her move the entire Games she struck the sword-

into her chest.

She fell forward, onto the dirt and a bit of silver glinted out of her back.

And Teth knelt there, eyes wide and mouth open on an 'O', screaming at the top of his lungs

(for all of Panem to hear)

**How was the point of view? Well, and the story too.**


End file.
